


The Christmas Markets

by xaccier



Series: dreamnotfound fics [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Candles, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas market, Cold Weather, Gream - Freeform, M/M, Snow, Winter, because dream always spoils george, dream and george visit the Christmas market, dream x george, dreamnotfound, dreamnotfound fluff, george wants to spoil dream for once, just two dudes being boyfriends, lemon tarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27777208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xaccier/pseuds/xaccier
Summary: George could feel Clay’s breath on his lips when he ducked his head down, and it felt like the first time they’d done this. Their hearts were beating fast, faces were flushed, and Clay could feel George’s unsteady grip on his wrist. They stayed like that for a while, staring into each other’s eyes as the snow piled up around their shoes, shoulders and hair covered in white. People walked past, chatting and laughing, but the two felt like the only people in the world at that moment. Everything else was background noise.——Or, Dream and George go to the Christmas Markets and like to spoil each other.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: dreamnotfound fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026964
Comments: 15
Kudos: 330





	The Christmas Markets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wheresmyheadphones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheresmyheadphones/gifts).



> Both parties have stated they are okay with the shipping, however if either change their mind on the subject, this will be taken down.
> 
> Okay, enjoy Dream and George spoiling each other :D

“Dream! Look at this!”

Clay’s head whipped around to look at George, who’s eyes were glued on the blue, grape scented candles. Clay gently placed down the mitten gloves he was previously inspecting—their old ones had a giant hole in them, which Clay only found out upon using them and accidentally burning his fingers—and stuffed his hands in his pockets, walking over to George with a small smile on his face.

”What are these?” He asked. He already knew what they were—they were candles for God’s sake—but seeing the way George’s eyes lit up while talking about them was enough to make Clay to want to listen to him forever.

The two were at the Christmas Markets. It was the 15th of December, and they’d recently heard from an old couple at the local bar that the Markets would be open from today ‘till Christmas. It would be a nice day out for the pair, they decided, so they grabbed their winter coats and headed out to it.

”They're scented candles! I haven’t had one since i was young,” George’s eyes were practically sparkling. “My Mum used to have loads. She threw them away when i was six, though, because the dog kept eating the wax.”

George let out a breathy laugh, and Clay’s eyes scrunched up as an even fonder smile graced his face. He gently touched George’s shoulder, reached past him, and picked up the blue candle that George had been ogling at. He brought it to his nose and sniffed, a sigh escaping his lips.

”It’s good,” Clay commented simply, and the words made George’s face light up.

”Can we get it?” George asked, hands clasped together. Clay had never seen his boyfriend so excited about something before—he couldn’t keep the soft expression off his face.

”Of course we can, George.” Clay didn’t even wait for George’s reaction before pulling out his wallet. He immediately felt a hand on his, and he looked up at George who clearly didn’t want him to pay. He shrugged the hand off and walked past the shorter boy, handing the money over to the nice old lady who ran the stand. She gratefully took it after Clay explained what he wanted, pointing to the blue candle, as well as some others too, and they were all put in paper bags and handed to Clay.

Clay turned around and looked at George, who looked almost distraught, and he laughed.

”What?” Clay lifted a hand up and wiped a tear from his eye. The bag jingled from around his wrist.

”Why did you do that?” George whined. “I was gonna pay.”

Clay hummed. “Consider it an early Christmas present.”

George gaped at him. Clay let out another laugh.

”You know what? Fine,” George started, and Clay lifted an eyebrow. “If you wanna waste your money on me, then go for it. But don’t come crying to me when you’re—“

”Maybe i will,” Clay shrugged, and George stated at him.

”You will what?” George asked, moving a hand to rest on his hip. Clay did the same, mocking him.

”Maybe i will spend all of my money on you.” Clay declared, expression confident.

George was silent for a moment. “...I wasn’t expecting you to actually—...”

Clay snorted, confidence seeping through hearty laughs like sand. After a while of laughing (and George looking around at people who were staring at them), Clay regained his composure and sucked in a sharp breath. “Okay, okay, I’m good now.”

Clay walked forward and leant down slightly, grasping a hand around George’s and he pulled him towards the food court. George let a, “Woah!”, as he was pulled, but his face was flushed red and he made no attempt to pull back.

He could feel the warmth from Clay’s hand even through his cotton gloves, and George relished in having their bodies connected, even if it was just through their hands. He dipped his face further into the scarf that was hung around his neck, pulling it up over his mouth with his free hand.

-

“George, look at this! It looks so good.” Clay motioned for George to look through the glass at a lemon tart, and George did just that.

”Oh, a lemon tart. Have you ever had one, Dream?” George asked. Considering Clay was American, he wasn’t entirely sure how different the treats were over there from England.

Clay hummed to himself, a hand over his mouth, seemingly trying to remember. “I’m pretty sure i had one once, when i went to Italy with my family. I was only, like, six though, so i don’t really remember it.”

George looked up at Clay, who’s head was titled in fascination. “Well, they look good,” Clay commented, poking the glass.

”They are,” George replied, finally, “We usually make them at Christmas. Me and my family, that is.”

Clay looked up at him with wondering eyes, and George could’ve melted under his gaze. Eyes as soft as golden syrup—and they even looked like that to George, despite being an emerald green.

”Wanna try one with me?” George asked, grinning, and Clay fist bumped the air, a, “Yes!”, flying out of his mouth. George laughed.

-

They sat with their backs against their chairs. Clay had an arm over his eyes and George groaned down at his feet. “I ate too much,” he muttered.

”I had your leftovers as well as mine, imagine how i feel.” Clay peered out from under his sleeve at George, who stared back at him. Their feet were touching, under the table, and Clay lightly kicked the other boy's.

”Hey!” George immediately whined. “What the hell was that for?”

Clay scoffed. “Oh come on, that was like the lightest kick ever—“ he was cut off by George’s foot stamping on his own, and he instantly bent forward to grab his shoe. “What the fuck?” He spluttered, holding his foot like his life depended on it.

”Oh come on, that was like the lightest kick ever,” George mocked in a terrible American accent, and Clay’s eyebrows furrowed.

“So you want war then, huh?” Clay asked dangerously, which made George abruptly shut up. “Yeah, didn’t think so.” Clay let out another laugh.

”Whatever. Only because i know you’re so fat that your foot could smoosh me to smithereens.” Clay almost choked, snorting. George couldn’t keep his composure for long, and soon enough was doubling over laughing too.

-

After the pair had gotten over their food coma, they were back on their feet parading around the market. Clay was inspecting the different coloured scarves on the winter stand when something caught George’s eye.

He pushed his way through a small crowd of people who were blocking the jewellery stand, following the speck of light that was being illuminated by the sun. Despite it being freezing, the sun was still shining high in the sky and George was glad it was. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have found the small golden pendant that he did.

When he finally found his way over to the stand, he carefully picked up the black velvet box that held the necklace. He held it up towards the sun and it shone back in his eyes brightly.

The necklace had a golden chain, and attached to it was a small half moon. George almost scoffed at how perfect it was for Clay—for his _Dream._

He imagined what Clay would look like with the necklace hanging around his neck, and he instantly handed over his money to the man running the stall. He didn’t even check the price, but the £100 that he handed over was apparently enough.

George span around on his heels, facing the crowd of people before once again weaving his way back through. He stuffed the black box into his coat pocket, zipping it up so as not to lose it.

”George!” He heard Clay shout from behind him, and he turned his head to face him, walking over. “Where did you run off to?” Clay seemed to be upset at the sudden disappearance of George, and the brunette put a hand on the taller’s shoulder.

”I was just checking out the stalls over there,” George reassured, and Clay smiled, rolling his eyes.

”Anything good over there?” Clay asked, taking George’s hand and swinging it around in front of them. George smiled at the small gesture.

”Not anything too good,” George lied, eyes flicking down towards his pocket for barely even a second. “We should move on to the other stalls.”

”If you say s—“ Clay cut himself up, head tilting to look up at the sky.

George furrowed his eyebrows, also looking up and asking, “What? What’s wrong?”

There was silence for a second while the two boys stared at the cloudy sky. George felt something land on the tip of his nose.

”Its snowing, George.”

George looked down at Clay, and their eyes met. Clay smiled at him, face flushed from the cold and freckles evident even in the winter weather. George could only stare; he admired the curves and shadows that bounced off Clay’s features, only highlighted by the wet snow sticking to it.

Clay’s hand reached up and his fingertips brushed over George’s nose. “You got a little something there.”

George’s face burned under the cool touch of Clay’s fingers as he swiped away the snowflake carefully. He moved his hand down slightly to cup George’s face, and George brought his hand up to rest around Clay’s wrist. Clay pulled him forward gently and pushed their faces together, inches apart.

George could feel Clay’s breath on his lips when he ducked his head down, and it felt like the first time they’d done this. Their hearts were beating fast, faces were flushed, and Clay could feel George’s unsteady grip on his wrist. They stayed like that for a while, staring into each other’s eyes as the snow piled up around their shoes, shoulders and hair covered in white. People walked past, chatting and laughing, but the two felt like the only people in the world at that moment. Everything else was background noise.

George was the first to move. Instead of pulling away, however, he stood on his tiptoes and placed a quick, loving and almost shy kiss to Clay’s forehead. He pulled back and rocked on his feet, head ducking into his scarf again.

George felt Clay’s hand pull back from his own and his head shot up, worried. What he was met with, though, was a blushing Clay who had a hand pressed to his forehead. George’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

Clay breathed out, a pocket of mist appearing in front of his face. “What... was _that?_ ” He asked, eyes closing.

”What? It was just... a kiss...” George muttered mildly, looking away, his face growing pink—this time, it wasn’t because of the cold.

”I wasn’t expecting that,” Clay responded honestly. George looked back over at him.

”Was it... okay? To do?” George asked. He’d never been the one to initiate before, and he was worried it may have thrown Clay off.

”George,” Clay started, and he took the shorter’s hand again. George instantly relaxed. “It was more than okay.”

George smiled. _‘What am i worried for? It’s only Dream.’_

”Alright, shall we keep moving then?” Clay asked, realising they were stood in the middle of the walkway and people were having to move around them to get past. George realised too and flushed deep crimson, embarrassed.

George felt himself shiver, and he reached out to grab Clay’s sleeve, motioning over to a pot on the floor with the sign _‘Free Umbrella’._ Those pots had been stashed around the Market, thanks to the owners checking the weather reports.

“Oh, good idea,” Clay commented, and jogged over to it, pulling one out. It was the last one in that bucket, so Clay shouted over to George, “Are we good to share?”, and George replied, “Yeah, ‘course.”

Clay grabbed the umbrella and walked back over to George, opening it. It opened into an array of different colours; oranges and greens and reds mixing together.

”Too bad you cant see half of these colours, it’s beautiful,” Clay commented, earning him a half-hearted smack on the shoulder. They both huddled underneath the umbrella, barely fitting, and Clay removed one hand from it to wrap around George’s waist instead.

He pulled George towards him, making sure they could both fit under, but George let out a small yelp and Clay laughed. “What, you don’t like being this close to me?” Clay whispered down at George.

”No, you stink, Dream,” George retorted, sticking his tongue out at the taller. Clay just laughed again, fondly.

-

The two walked around the Markets for another hour or so, stopping at different stalls and eating more treats and buying Christmas gifts for their friends. They walked until their feet ached, and eventually took a break to sit on a bench nearby, out of the way of all the people. The markets were clearing out—it was getting late—but there were still enough people to make it uncomfortable to sit in.

Clay balanced the umbrella between the gap in the seat, and extended it a bit more so they had more space. George shuffled over a bit, closer to Clay, and the blonde smiled, leaning into the brunette.

”Did you have a good time today?” George asked, gazing up at him.

Clay smiled warmly. “I had an amazing time, George. I’m glad you brought me here.”

”I’m glad, too,” George responded, once again lifting his scarf over his mouth. Clay brought his hand up and pulled it back down, though, cupping George’s cheek. The shorter stopped for a moment, staring at Clay, before pulling away and hiding behind the material again.

Clay sighed—a content sigh—and looked out at the trees. The leaves were coated in white thanks to the snow, and so was the grass, giving the entire field and Market the aura of a winter wonderland. It reminded him of his Christmas’ back in Florida, when his parents used to take him to see 'Santa'.

”By the way...” George started, clearing his throat. Clay looked over at him. He saw George was nervous, for some reason, so he gently placed his gloved hand over the brunette's. George seemed to appreciate it, as he turned his hand over and squeezed it tightly, eyes locked on their intertwined fingers. “...I got you something.”

Clay raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it?”

”Jeez, so impatient,” George rolled his eyes, grinning, and pulled his hand back. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the black velvet box.

”Woah,” Clay gaped. “You’re not proposing, are you?”

George spluttered. “What?! No! Why would you—Jesus.”

Clay wheezed. “Good, because i want to be the one to do that.”

Georges face had turned red a lot that day, but it had never turned as red as it did in that moment. “E—Excuse me?” He exclaimed, wondering if he heard that right.

”Not right now, don’t worry,” Clay laughed, hands in the air, almost defending himself. “I just meant that when we get married, _I_ want to be the one to propose to _you._ ”

George stared. “That’s not the bit i was struggling with, Dream.”

Clay raised an eyebrow. “What? You don’t wanna marry me? How rude.”

George inched forward, voice hoarse. “What? No! I didn’t say that! I do wanna marry you, i just—“

”What?” Clay asked, dragging out the ‘a’. “Georgie wants to marry me? Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

George groaned. “Stop teasing me!”

”Hey, you’re the one who said you wanted to marry me!” Clay shrugged, leaning back with a smirk plastered on his face.

George huffed in annoyance. “Look, forget about that for now and let me give you your stupid present.” Clay giggled at George’s flushed face and heated words, nodding. “Okay. I got you this.”

George shoved the black box into Clay’s hands, not opening it. If he opened it for him, that would _really_ look like a proposal, and he couldn’t deal with that right now.

Clay gripped the box slightly, looking up through his golden bangs at George, who looked away. Clay looked back down at the box, and finally reached down to open the lid.

”George...” Clay said after a moment of stunned silence. George’s heart was beating fast with anticipation, and he peeked over at Clay to see his reaction.

To be honest, he didn’t really expect to see Clay wiping a tear from his eye. The blonde was cradling the box in his hand, staring down at it like it was a diamond.

”George, this is...” Clay was lost for words. He couldn’t stop a few tears from sliding down his face—after all, George wasn’t the lovey-dovey type. Clay was fine with that, of course, but small gestures like this every once in a while reminded Clay that George actually did care about him after all, as stupid as it sounds.

”Its a token,” George started slowly. “Of my appreciation. For you. My appreciation for you. And for everything you do for me.” George ended up rambling.

Clay’s head lifted to look at the boy, who was eyeing up a nearby tree like it was the most interesting thing on the planet.

Clay felt his heart well up. He felt so much love for the boy in front of him at that moment; he didn’t deserve such a perfect partner.

”Why?” Clay asked, voice small. It was a weird change for George, considering the man's usual loud exterior, and he looked over at Clay with a concerned expression.

”Because you deserve it,” he answered, as though it was the most obvious thing.

George lifted his hand and, this time, _he_ was the one who cupped _clay's_ cheek. He slowly wiped away the tear, a frown on his face. Clay titled his head into his hand and smiled. Their eyes connected, and George...

...Immediately stood up and turned on his heels. Clay’s eyebrows raised, as he wiped away a stray tear, and he stared at George’s back.

”Uh—well, hm. I’m glad you—you like it...” George stuttered, and Clay could see his hand over his mouth. He smiled. “Alright! I’m going to look at the candles again.” And so he did; George skipped off towards the candle stall, leaving Clay on the bench by himself.

Clay looked down at the box again. He pulled the necklace out, holding it up against the sun, and it cast golden rays down onto his face. _The moon. Dream._

”Thank you, George,” Clay mumbled, even though George was out of earshot. “I’ll treasure it with my life.”

He fiddled with the clasp of the locket, before tying it behind his neck. He tucked it into his coat and patted it securely. He didn’t want to lose it.

He stood up, dusted himself off and jogged back over to George, throwing an arm around his shoulders and bending down to whisper in his ear;

”Thank you, George.” But this time, he heard it. "I love you."

And _boy,_ did George _blush_.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a kudos if you liked it, i spent a lot of time on this one and it lets me know that people actually like it. If you have any feedback, feel free to leave it in the comments!
> 
> Either way, thank you for reading! Drink some water :D  
> Follow my Twitter for updates on new stories and cool stuff like that; @xaccier


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